Plastic Pumpkins
by TroublingAStar
Summary: It’s Sam, not Sammy, after all, and he’s through with that life.[Happy Halloween!]


Sam Winchester was raised to be nothing if not wary on Halloween, and so he was not altogether surprised when he woke up to find his bed drenched in plastic spider and skull rings, the kind that he used to get in grade school when they would trick-or-treat as a school event.

"Ha ha," he muttered dryly as he sat up, causing a brief shower of rings. "Very scary."

"Oh, they're not meant to be," his roommate, Kenny, assured him. "I can do better than _that_."

Sam raised an eyebrow as he picked one off of his head.

"It's just to get you in the spirit. It was Laura's idea, anyway," Kenny added. "I wanted to at least wake you up with a bloodcurdling scream and then _really_ scare you."

He rolled his eyes this time as he got out of bed, making a mental note to clean up later. If his roommate had actually done something like that, then Kenny would more likely than not have found himself splashed with holy water and with a pure silver dagger pressed to his throat before Sam had even properly opened his eyes. Some habits died harder than others.

"You guys know I hate Halloween," he said as he padded to the closet.

"That's the whole point, dummy," Kenny replied, tossing a pillow at him, which Sam caught in a swift, agile motion. "What kind of person doesn't enjoy Halloween?"

"Me."

"Think about it, Sam. The costumes, the candy, the food—come on, the girls in costume! Tell me you're not even remotely interested in seeing the girls in costume!"

"I'm not even remotely interested in seeing the girls in costume," he deadpanned, strongly reminded of Dean—one of the few things he disliked in Kenny was his striking resemblance to Dean when it came to girls. "Besides, you have a girlfriend."

"And she's going to be in costume for the party tonight, so I'm covered."

Sam rolled his eyes again. "You're such a pervert."

"Who, me?" Kenny asked, smiling innocently. "Besides, have you _seen_ her?"

* * *

Could he not let his guard down for a day? 

Sam was beginning to seriously doubt it. People kept trying to sneak up on him with a "Boo," and it was really beginning to irritate him. There were only so many times he could restrain himself from accidently taking someone out for trying to scare a Winchester. For good measure, he had made himself keep all and any weapons locked in his room. Except for the holy water. Which, if need be, he could probably pass off as a joke or something.

Hopefully.

He really, really hated his father and his freakish parenting techniques today.

* * *

"So, are you going to the costume party tonight?" 

Sam sighed. It wasn't the first time someone had asked him that question in the past week, but the irritation of it never really faded. As if he wasn't put-off enough by the most Halloween-reference-filled week of all of his eighteen years. "No, I'm not."

The asker this time was his roommate's girlfriend, who also—_coincidentally_ and handily enough—happened to be the RA. She was sitting on Kenny's bed, waiting for him to get back from class so they can go for dinner before the party. Sam didn't really mind leaving the door to their dorm open for her, though she had an apparent _need_ to fill any silent room with conversation, which was an annoyance when he's trying to, oh, _study_.

"Why not?" she asked. "It'll be fun."

To see a bunch of civilians flaunt their ignorance in only half-accurate costumes? It sounded more like torture to Sam. On the one hand, the falsity of the costumes would be almost painful to watch and on the other hand…well, he wished he still had their naivety.

"I have a big rhetoric paper due tomorrow, Jessica," he replied instead, turning back to the Word document on his laptop.

"You know, Sam," she said seriously, leaning forward and going into full-on RA mode, "I've noticed that you don't seem to be mixing very well. You don't talk to anyone but Kenny, and you never do anything but hang out in your room—I've only ever seen you come out for classes and meals. You don't even talk about—or _to_—your family or friends back home, for crying out loud!"

He gritted his teeth at the words _family_ and _home_, trying to remind himself that Jess had no way of knowing just how much he's lacking in both categories. For lack of a better place, he'd told people that his hometown was in Lawrence, Kansas. After all, it was probably the only real home he'd ever had, despite the fact that the Winchesters had vacated the house before his first birthday. In all actuality, Sam knew that saying he's from Lawrence was foolhardy; everyone in the know was aware of the Winchesters' connection to that city. But he had been tired of his father's stupid rules supposedly for their safety, sick and tired of everything to do with his life before normalcy.

Besides, he could hardly tell people that he all but grew up in a 1967 Chevy Impala, now could he? That the truest home he's ever known consisted of those quiet nights on the road, with his father driving and Dean sitting shotgun—even though Sam had _asked_ to be allowed to sit there, insisting that he _wasn't_ too little—and there's nary a sound, save for the purr of the engine as he drifted off to dreamless sleep, despite how uncomfortable his position was? That the most familial moments he could remember consist of the few but precious times when all three of them hunted together, safe in the knowledge that Dad and Dean both have his back, and he theirs?

It's Sam, not Sammy, after all, and he's _through_ with that life.

"I'm fine," he finally muttered, unwillingly typing a few meaningless sentences.

Jessica laughed, to his surprise, and he could tell by the creaking of the mattress that she stood up. A moment later, he's startled when she ruffled his hair playfully; he stiffened for a moment before scowling and brushing her hand off.

"Fine," she said, the laugh still audible in her voice. "Don't come. But if you change your mind, you'd better be in costume."

"Whatever," he replied, attempting to straighten out his hair before giving up on the vain effort.

Though, she now has him thinking he just might drop by. And if he _does_ have to dress up, well…Dean always told him that girls dig a man in uniform.

* * *

So this was originally written for spnhalloween on LJ, with the prompt of _Stanford: Sam's first girlfriend or RA or someone tries to coax him into dressing up for the holiday_. Props go to ignipes for working spnhalloween, as well as embroiderama for beta-ing this for me! 

Hope you guys enjoyed it. Nothing belongs to me, of course.


End file.
